


Legend Snared

by LinaTurmalina



Category: Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: Canon Compliant, Case Fic, F/M, Gen, Mercy trying to protect her friends from everything, Mystery, Snark, arthurian legends, really just filling the time between books, with some tragic backstories added in for everyone, wolves and vampires teaming up despite mutual dislike
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinaTurmalina/pseuds/LinaTurmalina
Summary: Mercy and Adam are enjoying a romantic revival after Elizaveta's curse, while also trying to deal with the usual Tri-Cities politics, and with Lugh's newly-resurrected walking (now, talking) stick. The latter of which might seem like minor trouble, except no fae-made trouble is ever minor -- and Zee's slightly-too-high discomfort doesn't bode well for the matter.Adding to the hassle, Kyle's sister comes to visit, bringing vocal concerns about Kyle's safety as a human mate to a werewolf. To help Kyle and Warren, Mercy resolves to show her the pack leads a regular life, and scary battles are an exception rather than the norm -- but when a deadly fae attacks Marsilia's seethe, and Stefan warns Mercy might be its next target, scary battles are exactly what's on the menu.As the pack races to figure out who who the fae is, what it wants, and how to fight it, they find themselves embroiled in a strange mystery and facing an enemy who's outsmarted many older and more powerful opponents -- including some familiar figures from Mercy's past.And the more she unravels the mystery, the scarier things look...
Relationships: Adam Hauptman/Mercy Thompson, Kyle Brooks/Warren Smith, Marsilia & Mercy Thompson, Mercy Thompson & Stefan Uccello
Comments: 18
Kudos: 11
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1allycat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1allycat/gifts).



> i feel our tastes run in the same direction with these characters ;) so happy very belated valentine's! 
> 
> This is mostly a between-the-books filler, slash excuse to give my favorite ladies (and gentlemen!) some more screen time. Sorry the writing's a bit creaky. Dusted this off while procrastinating my own work, and I'm trying not to spend TOO much time editing //groans in procrastination-guilt//

CHAPTER 1

When I opened Mrs. Candiano’s Opel, I found a pair of glasses on the passenger seat, on top of an old book of fairy tales.

This wasn't that unusual: clients forgot things all the time in their cars. Usually, I moved the items to the glove compartment or back seat to get them out of the way, and forgot about them unless someone called to ask -- but these particular glasses looked a little too fancy to be tossed carelessly aside. High-end eye-wear wasn't exactly my area of expertise, but judging by their light feel, the frames of silver filigree, the bone-colored temples with a feather motif carved delicately into their body, these weren't from 39dollarglasses.com. 

Mrs. Candiano was a public librarian. Her banged-up Open probably cost less than these glasses -- which meant she probably cared about them a lot, and I didn't want them accidentally lost or broken.

I walked back to the office area and picked up a small Tupperware I’d used to bring Tad cookies. After rinsing it and drying it with the cleanest cloth I could find, I put the glasses inside and on the desk. When I called Mrs. Candiano with an estimate later, I’d let her know they were safe.

My phone buzzed, and I laughed at Adam’s text: a wolf emoji, followed by about a dozen jogger emojis and a question mark.

Thanks to an offhand comment by Jesse, he'd decided to experiment with all-emoji texts. I couldn't imagine he enjoyed it, but he kept at it with surprising dedication. Ever since we’d broken Elizaveta’s curse, he’d been acting more playful, joking more, embracing light-hearted nonsense like the emoji spree. Like he was trying to prove to himself that darkness was truly gone.

I had no problem assisting with that.

I wrote back, _No, you can’t hunt the nice city council people_.

He sent back a wolf and a frowny-face, and I laughed again. Couldn't blame him for entertaining some good old-fashioned fang diplomacy. I would, too, if I had to deal with Pasco's city council all day.

Local authorities had finally decided that, since the Tri-Cities were now protected territory for everyone mortal and supernatural, regulations should exist for how to manage that. After initial attempts at establishing official protocols had ended in Kennewick PD threatening a strike, and the Pasco city hall nearly being turned into a swamp by offended fae, Adam ended up mediating among the various factions. Due to the glacial speed of bureaucracy, his temporary mediator gig had taken up most of his time for three weeks and was promising to stretch into the next century.

 _Unplanned DA meeting at five_ , read his next text, and I huffed. Between local governance, law enforcement, and various activist groups, his meetings often stretched into the evenings, these days.

_Feeding your dinner to Medea if you're not home by seven._

Adam texted back an emoji of a wolf and about thirty frowny-faces. I was scrolling through for a suitably ridiculous sticker in response, when Zee emerged from the back room, cleaning his hands on an oily rag.

He gave me a sympathetic shrug. “Noch tot, Liebchen. Tut leid.” His eyes darted to the Tupperware container on the desk, then he pulled a face when he discovered it filled with eye-wear rather than more cookies. "Could order a new cooling fan switch and ignition coil, change the starter relay and engine mount and try again...Hm."

I worked out the math in my head and gave up on the notion. Counting the new battery and spark plug wire set I'd already bought, that would bring the cost of repairs past the worth-it-line. And Zee didn't seem hopeful even replacing half a dozen pieces would get my poor Jetta working again.

"I need another car," I concluded, glumly. This was a problem: a new state rule on emissions in used car sales had cut into my pool of available clunkers. “Maybe I’ll just buy a scooter,” I grumbled. “Or roller blades.”

Zee snorted. “I should like to see that. But perhaps from a distance.”

I pictured Adam's face when I informed him I would be roller-blading to work from now on, and grinned.

Then I looked back to Zee. “Any news on…the other project?”

His look turned cranky. He was displeased with me about _the other project_. Which was extremely unfair, seeing how I didn't exactly have a big choice in the matter.

“Keine Ahnung,” he said gruffly. No idea. Which was a scary thing to hear from Zee, who usually knew everything.

“I haven’t seen it much the last couple of weeks,” I said. “It’ll appear in our bedroom, every now and then. Hasn’t talked to me again, though.”

Zee grunted. He wasn’t happy when he’d heard Lugh’s walking stick had apparently resurrected after its destruction, but when he'd heard I thought the stick _talked..._ well, he'd been scowling a lot, since then.

Apparently talking fae artifacts were bad news. Go figure.

I'd brought the stick to Zee a couple of times for a closer look, but it didn't sit for it. Vanished as soon as we looked away, and didn't appear again for a few days. Zee mentioned it felt hostile to him, so I'd quit trying to bring it in.

"The new scabbard won't hold it, either?" Zee asked, and I sighed and shook my head.

"Still comes and goes as it pleases - and whatever magic's in that scabbard makes me sneeze." I bit back a smile at Zee's sour look. We were on our fifth attempt to contain the walking stick, and all the sheaths and scabbards we'd tried so far had failed. “I was thinking: what if we combine iron and running water? So we take the iron-lined scabbard, and we lower it in the creek in some sort of cage. Like…a lobster trap?”

Zee threw up his hands. “Lobster trap! For Lugh’s creation. You wish trouble, Liebchen, ja? Perhaps you can stand upon a bridge and shout your disrespect to the Gray Lords?”

I winced and held up my hands. "Never mind."

“And running water won’t douse this magic," he grumbled. "It’s not witch magic, and it’s been quenched in the heart of a river monster.”

Right. No chance I'd forget about that.

I sighed and wished Tad had left us some of the cookies. These days, an emergency cookie supply was sorely needed.

“I don’t know what to do with it, then," I admitted. "Beauclaire couldn’t keep it. I doubt even Coyote could, at this point, if the stick doesn't want it." I stared at the Tupperware container on the desk, frowning. "Don’t fae have places entirely warded from magic? Like…storage containers for dangerous stuff? Fae bank safes? Maybe we can put it in one of those.”

Zee’s expression darkened, so much that for a moment I glimpsed beyond his cantankerous, pot-bellied old man glamor, something larger and infinitely more powerful.

Then it was gone, and he heaved a sigh and went to clean a wrench left on the service table.

“I’ve asked others who know these things. There have been cases of magic artifacts returning after their destruction. But in all cases, the object was designed that way. And some objects can develop a will of their own, if they’re old enough and powerful enough. But for an object to do both…beunruhigend, Schatz.”

I tried to calm my twisting stomach. “I know it’s unsettling, but the walking stick’s been helpful, so far.” If a little bloodthirsty. “And it can’t act on its own…right?”

“We’ll see.” Zee tossed the cleaning rag in its bin. “Don’t use it, if you can help it. No matter what.” He hesitated, shifting on the balls of his feet. Something in his eyes was…perturbed. “It’s not good, Liebchen, that we think of mixing wards to keep it still. That we seek safe storage places for its magic. When that happens, it is a sign of bad changes. Dangerous changes.”

According to Coyote, change was what my magic was all about. Except it wasn’t always change for the better.

“I didn’t mean to cause anything dangerous.” I rubbed my cheeks. “I didn’t have a choice except to call it back.”

“I know.” Zee’s gaze softened. “I will ask around, see what can be done. Perhaps it is a simple artifact that has become...umgewandelt. Transformed. Lugh was a tricky fiend, and his objects are tricky, too.”

“And if this is more than a tricky artifact doing its thing…? What would that mean?”

Zee shook his head.

“Nothing I can speak of. Let me think—and I will make you another scabbard.” He sighed. “Perhaps the lobster cage is not so bad an idea.”

#

Zee gave me a ride home. Without my car, I couldn’t stop by the grocery to buy meat for the next day’s barbecue, so I put that on our to-do list for the morning. When hosting a cookout for werewolves, one needed about four bisons' worth of meat, and our freezer supply was low.

I found Jesse and her friend Izzy making cookies in the kitchen. In the den, Warren and Zack were playing a car videogame with Aiden. Gaming consoles were one part of the modern world he had no trouble adjusting to.

“We’ll have late dinner,” I told Jesse. “Your dad’s busy...” (I meant to say ‘hunting the city council’, but Izzy’s presence changed my mind) “...with the city council. But if he’s not here by seven, the cat gets his food.”

She laughed. “I put lamb in the fridge to defrost. Can Izzy stay?”

“Always.” Our house was pretty much the pack’s social club, anyway. Extra dinner guests were the norm. “Izzy, lamb and roasted potatoes good with you?”

The girl’s lower lip trembled, and I noticed her unusually woeful expression. Uh oh.

“Skyler liked roasted potatoes,” she said, tragically, while Jesse, behind her, made a heart with her thumbs and index fingers, then broke it in half. Ah. Boy troubles. Or maybe girl troubles—I wasn’t sure which Skyler-the-roasted-potato-fan was.

“We’ll have rice pilaf with the lamb,” I promised, hoping Skyler had no affinity for pilaf, because our pantry stocks were low, too. I really needed that grocery run.

I left Jesse mixing cookie dough for Izzy’s broken heart, and I ran upstairs to shower. Half hour later, freshly changed and with a plate of warm cookies, I headed to out back to check on Sherwood, who was guarding the door to Underhill. But before reached the back door, it opened and Kyle marched in wearing a pinched expression.

When he saw me, he schooled his face into something more neutral. But there was no disguising the nervous energy in his movements.

I arched my eyebrows, and he threw up his hands.

“He's refusing to help me move the statues. What’s the point of working in construction, if you can’t bring a couple of cranes to a friend in need?”

“Those statues keep up the lobby roof,” Sherwood called from the yard - loud enough for Kyle to hear. “You want them removed, you’ll need a demolition crew, not construction.”

Kyle made an annoyed face. But somehow, I didn’t think Sherwood was the root of his bad mood.

I knew he and Warren had been debating moving, but I didn’t think it was imminent. “You found a house you liked?”

Kyle shrugged. “Several. We’re thinking about it.” He saw my frown and shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ll figure out the statues—maybe get in a construction crew to set up struts, before moving them. We gotta get going. Warren?”

He raised his voice, though we both knew he didn’t need to. With the basement door open, Warren could hear him fine.

I put a hand on his arm as he tried to walk past me, and I lowered my voice.

“You okay? What’s going on? Are you and Warren fighting over the moving thing?” 

Kyle smiled, almost reluctantly, then gave another headshake. “It’s not Warren—it’s… Ugh.” He stuck his hands into the pockets of his tight jeans. “My sister’s coming to town tonight. We gotta pick her up at the airport at eight.”

Ah. That explained the mood.

Unlike his parents, Kyle’s sister accepted his sexuality, but their relationship was still touchy. Especially with the werewolf thing. Kyle generally softened the details of being mated to the pack’s third, but the last few months, we’d been in the news a lot, and I knew his sister had been asking questions.

“She’s been trying to visit ever since that wolf assassin thing.” Kyle sighed. “I was stupid to say anything. I’d just gotten fed up with the round-the-clock protection—you know how Warren got—so I stepped outside to cool my head, and she happened to call, so I vented at her. She hasn’t talked about anything else since.” He made a helpless gesture with his hands. “Told her I got way more death threats from my client’s angry spouses than I ever got because of the pack, but I’m not getting through.”

“And now she’s coming to inspect our dangerous living conditions.” Warren appeared in the kitchen, giving me a one-armed hug before circling Kyle’s shoulders. Kyle relaxed into him. “We’ll manage it. Show her the house, the neighborhood—she just needs to see for herself that the news aren’t our life.”

I grimaced. “I hear that. At least she called to set up the visit—my mom showed up uninvited to find a starving vampire and a suicidal wolf in my living room.”

Kyle grinned. “I’ll take that over a visit from Ally.” He rolled his eyes. “We get along fine, over the phone. But our parents can get into her head, sometimes - my father especially. She’ll come here and spout out his shit, and I don’t need that right now. Neither does Warren.”

“I got a thick skin.” Warren winked.

“You shouldn’t need it.”

I got the feeling they’d had this argument before, so I held out the cookie plate, before they fell back into it, and said, “Why don’t you bring her here?” I shrugged at their incredulous looks. “We’ve got the barbecue tomorrow for George and Mary Jo. More people might make it less awkward for all three of your, and Ally can see for herself the pack’s just a bunch of regular people doing normal things. Who doesn’t like roast meat and beer?”

Warren and Kyle exchanged a look, silently communicating with only their eyes, as Adam and I did. After a moment, Kyle nodded.

“I’ll ask her. Beer will definitely help.” He smiled, looking more like his usual self. “Remember you offered this, when she pulls you aside and expresses her concerns over your forced wifely submission to the scary Alpha." His grin widened. "She reads those newspapers.”

"Ugh." I punched him in the shoulder. Two weeks ago, someone had published an article about my supposed servitude to Adam, with a very unflattering photo, and I had yet to live it down.

“You bring that up," I warned, "and I’ll make sure their next article’s about you and your naked statues. I got pictures, too.”

Warren and Kyle laughed, and I tried for my most menacing scowl. Somehow, they didn't seem intimidated.

Once they'd left for the airport, I walked out into the backyard, toward the small stone door and the figure in the lawn chair beside it.

Sherwood looked up and nodded his greeting. “That was good, telling them to bring the sister over. Cookouts help integrate the mortal parts of the family with the wolves. The Marrok does it, too.”

“Nothing a good chunk of charred meat can’t fix.” I put down the plate of cookies on the folding table and glanced to the door to Underhill. “No surprise visitors today?”

“Quiet as a church at midnight.”

And a thousand times creepier. "Just the way we want it." Making sure we didn't miss any more of Underhill's scary prisoners was precisely why we'd set up door-guard duty.

“I can take over the rest of the shift, if you want,” I offered, as I always did. And as always, Sherwood shook his head.

"All good."

He took more door shifts than anyone. Liked it, he claimed—and more strangely still, so did his wolf. Most wolves loathed guard duty; they preferred to be proactive, going out to hunt those who’d harm their loved ones, rather than waiting for danger to come to them. Also, they got bored easily. Wolves weren’t guard dogs—they needed better stimulation than staring at a locked door for eight hours.

But Sherwood and his wolf seemed to enjoy this, strangely. And since no one else in the pack did, when he began to volunteer for shifts more frequently, no one argued. He liked it, we liked not having to do it, it worked out for the best.

“I’ll get tea, then,” I said, and I walked back inside for a pitcher of iced-tea, two glasses, and an ice bowl. When I got back, Sherwood watched me with amusement, munching on a cookie.

“You don’t need to bribe me with sugar and soda, Mercy. I like guard duty.”

“It’s not a bribe, it’s appreciation. And iced-tea isn’t soda, you European heretic.” I grinned as Medea appeared beside us and wrapped herself around his ankles. “See? Even she thinks you need company.”

He snatched a second cookie. “She caught a sparrow today. Maybe we should have her on guard duty.”

“She’d just make friends with whatever homicidal fae came out the door,” I said. “Like those cats in villain movies. She’d hang out on their shoulder, purring as they torture the hero.” 

Sherwood snickered into his cookie, while I poured two tea glasses. The heat had been steadily in the three digits, even in early evening. I handed him one glass, kept the other.

“Seriously. It’s your sixth shift this week. You sure you don’t want me to call a replacement? You gotta have better things to do than stare at this door.”

He stretched, like a cat, and massaged his knee. “We enjoy the wait.” He laughed at my expression. “The wolf is a patient hunter. And I like the sun.” His eyes glinted yellow, as his wolf came to the surface. “We wait as long as it takes, for the prey that’s our due. We sense it coming, the day of the big hunt.”

Okay, then.

“No offense, but I hope there won’t be anything to hunt. If nothing else comes out this door for the next…” (I calculated quickly) “eleven months and thirteen days, I’ll be happy.”

Sherwood laughed, his eyes back to human. “Something will come out eventually. Or something will try to go in. When there’s a door, there’s someone who wants to open it.”

“Knock on wood. And quit sounding so eager about it,” I grumped, and Sherwood frowned.

“I…didn’t realize I was. Hm.” He canted his head, thoughtful. “The wolf likes this. The wait, the slow hunt—it’s something we’re used to. And now we sense our time is nearing…”

For some reason, the words made me uneasy.

Sherwood was…odd. Of course, coming from Bran’s pack, that was a given - and over the years, I’d heard more than one of Bran's wildlings speak about the end nearing, and the wild hunt, and so on.

But Sherwood was older than most, and his wolf had some sort of magic we'd never quite figured out - so I tended to pay attention to what he said. 

I was still debating whether or not I wanted to ask him what he meant, when Adam walked out into the backyard.

My body instantly relaxed. I had no idea how much tension I’d accumulated over the day, until I laid eyes on my mate and the stress fell off like a leaden mantle from my shoulders. He smiled as he came to me, and I pressed myself against him, making a contented noise in my throat, all thoughts of Sherwood’s weirdness gone.

“Six forty-two,” he rumbled from above me. “Cat doesn't get my dinner.”

I laughed and tipped my head back so he could kiss me. Mm. I loved the way he smelled.

“Good day?” he asked.

“No blood and carnage. Except on the front of an old Opel—the lady who drives it ran off the road and into an abandoned trough.” I still hadn't figured out how many pieces needed to be replaced. “You? Cowed our illustrious local leaders into playing nice?”

Adam sighed. “Richland PD and Franklin Count Sherriff’s nearly came to blows over the drill in Riverview. And Kennewick’s city council wants to ban wolves and fae from Badger Mountain on public holidays.”

“I hope you take pictures when they propose that to the Gray Lords.”

He snorted and kissed me again, and delicious sparks ran through my body. Maybe it was because we’d had a long dry spell because of Elizaveta’s curse, but these days I couldn’t get enough of Adam. In every sense of the word. He knew it, too: my arousal permeated the air.

“I’m hanging up now,” said Samuel’s voice in Adam’s hand, startling me.

Adam’s shoulders stiffened slightly; then he laughed and held up the phone he'd been holding. “Samuel for you. Called you and you wouldn’t pick up.”

“Oops. My phone’s charging upstairs.” I took his, grinning when he kissed my wrist, and I stepped away from door to Underhill. I wasn’t sure sound carried through it, but I wanted this conversation away from fae ears. "Hello?"

“Ariana says to try a thus-made-thus-bound trick,” said Samuel, with no preamble. “Using the same materials an object was made from to build a container that can keep it anchored. She says it works on stubborn objects, sometimes.”

A woman’s voice spoke in the background, but I couldn’t make out words. He and Ariana were still somewhere on the African continent, and distance made our connection choppy.

“The closer to the true materials, the better it works,” Samuel repeated Ariana’s words. “If you found the original tree Lugh used for wood, or the original chunk of silver for the tip, or the tools he used, that would be best. Otherwise, go as close as you can: a tree from the same forest, silver from the same mine, that sort of thing.”

I groaned. “How do I even start to find out that info? It’s not like Lugh left an instruction manual.”

“Actually, yes.” Samuel sounded amused. “Ariana says fae smiths usually keep logbooks. She’s not sure Lugh had one, but odds are good he did. Beauclaire probably has it now.”

Great: all I had to do was ask a Gray Lord for his father’s logbook. That conversation would go well. 

_Why do you need it, Mercy?_

_Oh, because I accidentally resurrected a particularly tricky artifact your dad made._

_Does this happen to be the same artifact you quenched in monster blood, then caused to be destroyed?_

_Why yes, yes it does. Oh, and now maybe it talks to me, too.  
_

“She says not to worry too much,” Samuel added, pulling me from my internal play-acting. “Lugh’s toys often misbehave, and it’s likely the walking stick was made to regenerate and travel around. It’s not that unusual.”

Zee’s alarm suggested otherwise. But I hadn’t told Samuel and Ariana about the whole walking-stick-talked-to-me business. Adam and I had agreed to keep that under wraps.

“Thanks.” I heard another noise in the background. “Is Ariana okay?”

There was a brief silence, and something like a splash. “She’s fine. Currently—busy.” The humor in Samuel’s voice told me all was well - he wouldn't be so cheerful if Ariana were in real danger. “Found an abandoned fae nursery in the Nile Delta. Locals thought the place was cursed and wanted to burn down the area to cleanse it, but Ariana had a hunch, so we checked it out. Found a dozen fae infants and—” He fell briefly silent as a sound halfway between a lion’s roar and a hyena’s laughter erupted nearby. “Their overzealous nursemaids. Gotta go. Stay safe—call if you need us.”

He hung up. Fae nursery with a nursemaid who sounded like something out of Jurassic Park—no wonder they’d delayed their return. I grinned picturing Samuel wrangling baby fae.

Adam had been talking to Sherwood, but turned when I wandered near. “Fae infants?” he repeated.

Werewolf hearing.

“And a creepy nanny, apparently. Guess they’ll be there a while.” I’d secretly been hoping Ariana might return and take the walking stick off my hands, but no dice. “I gotta find Lugh’s logbook. What do you think—local bookshop?”

He snorted, and I stepped into his arms again, arranging the collar on his suit. He looked so handsome—and I still hadn’t recovered sufficiently from our dry spell, apparently. We might have to delay dinner.

Speaking of.

“I invited Kyle’s sister to the barbecue tomorrow. She’s worried about his involvement with werewolves, and it’s making things tougher on him and Warren. Figured if she sees a little bit of the pack just having a regular life, it might help.”

He nodded. “Good idea.”

“Glad you agree.” I grinned up at him. “Nudge.”

Adam’s eyes glinted, and he swept me off my feet and carried me upstairs.

After, we showered together and went downstairs, where Jesse and Zack were pulling a truly majestic amount of lamb shoulder and rosemary potatoes from the oven. Ben was getting plates from the cabinet, but he paused when we entered and grinned suggestively.

“Got a desperate call to help with dinner—apparently the Alpha couple being too busy getting busy to feed their poor children.”

Adam shot him a hard look. I blushed: he wasn’t _wrong_ , exactly. With both of us working long days, we usually just met mornings and evenings, and—well, I still needed reassurance after Elizaveta’s curse. And _reassurance_ was easier before dinner than on a full stomach.

I opened the utensils drawer and pulled out cutlery, while Jesse scowled at Ben.

“I called to ask if he had any extra potatoes—Izzy got a text from Skyler and they’re having dinner,” she explained in my direction, “and I like potatoes better than pilaf. Except we didn’t have enough, so I asked Ben. Apparently that equals dinner invitation.”

“That’s the price for luxury grocery delivery,” he informed her.

“Next time we can get Walmart,” said Aiden, coming in from the dining room. Jesse grinned and high-fived him, while Ben composed a look of faux-hurt.

“Being in school is helping along your snappy retort game,” Jesse told Aiden. “Use the power wisely.” 

“I make no such promises.” He grinned, but I’d caught the flash of discomfort on his face at the mention of school. He’d been in school one week and obviously wasn’t having an easy time. Adam and I had decided to give him two weeks before bringing it up ourselves, if he didn’t.

I smiled as I handed him the cutlery to take to the living room, and he gave me a tentative smile back, then returned two of the nine forks and knives.

“Sherwood’s gone,” he said. “Left after Mary Jo came in for her shift. And Lucia’s meeting a client for dinner.” After brief hesitation, he handed me back another utensil pair; with Lucia gone, Joel likely wouldn’t change forms to eat with us.

Adam’s glance to the backdoor told me he was likely keeping Mary Jo company.

“I’ll bring them food, before we start,” I said, and I grabbed two bowls—which I promptly dropped, as Stefan materialized in the middle of the kitchen, covered in blood and smelling of anger and fear.

His wild gaze landed on me, and he grabbed my shoulders.

“You’re in danger,” he gasped, right before Adam shoulder-checked him into the cabinets.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone reading and taking the time to comment! sorry this is still not quiiiite as polished as it could be. blame my day job that's not leaving me enough time for fun things ;)
> 
> happy weekend!

CHAPTER 2

It took thirty seconds to get everyone in crisis mode.

Zach took the kids downstairs, with orders to alert the rest of the pack. Ben and Joel checked the property for intruders. As soon as Stefan calmed enough for Adam to stop seeing him as a threat, the three of us moved to the living room. Adam banished him to the far end of the table. That put half the room between us—but Stefan’s state agitated the wolf enough that distance was the only way we’d have a conversation.

Stefan agitated me, too. Too wound up to sit, he stood, gripping the back of a chair. I hadn’t seen him like this since Marsilia had dropped him at my home, starved and tortured. His red eyes had the same wild look, and his fangs kept growing and retracting, as though his control failed him.

Which was a problem, because an out-of-sorts vampire in the middle of our home was setting Adam’s wolf of edge.

I tried to think happy, calming thoughts in both of their directions.

“Someone attacked the seethe,” said Stefan. His fingers dug grooves into the antique walnut wood. Good thing Christy had picked these chairs.

“Who?” asked Adam, but Stefan shook his head.

“Marsilia didn’t say. Couldn’t,” he amended, to Adam’s growl. “The attackers hurt her—she won’t tell us more until she’s fed and recovered. She just gave me Mercy’s name and sent me to warn you—the attackers are coming for you, next.”

His nostrils flared, and his eyes turned a deeper red. I put a hand on Adam’s arm to steady him.

“Is Marsilia okay?” Not that I cared much; but Stefan did, though she didn’t deserve it.

He exhaled. “She’ll be fine. They hurt her—” His hands dug into the chair so hard, the back shattered. The noise startled him, and for the first time he seemed to notice our tension. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Mercy. I—it was a shock to see what was done to Marsilia in her own home.”

I understood his shock. Especially if that blood on him was all Marsilia’s. I’d seen the seethe’s mistress fight a ghost-eating vampire. She wasn’t exactly a lightweight, in a fight.

“How does she know they’re coming for Mercy?” Adam had recovered his temper enough to speak again.

“I don’t know.” Stefan ran frustrated hands through his hair. The blood on his sleeve streaked his forehead. “I didn’t want to wait to ask more, if whoever attacked Marsilia was headed here, next. You don’t understand—the level of damage—”

“What type of damage?” asked Adam. “What did the attacker want? How did they bypass the seethe’s security measures?”

Stefan stared at him.

This was why Adam was the security expert.

“I don’t know,” Stefan said, at last. “Marsilia’s people say she met someone in her office. But when the fight broke out, no one could open the doors until Wulfe showed up.” He closed his eyes. “It was Wulfe who called me. When I got there, the office looked like it’d been bombed. Walls cracked, furniture shattered, blood everywhere...”

“Another vampire moving in on Marsilia’s territory?” asked Adam.

“No vampire I know could deal this damage to her and escape,” said Stefan. “A dozen Masters together couldn’t do it—or wreak the destruction I saw in the room.”

“And the attacker just escaped?” I asked, incredulously.

“Gone. No one I talked to saw them leave. Or knew who they were—or even how many.”

“How’s that even possible?” Vampire senses weren’t as keen as wolves’, but surely they’d notice _something_ about unknown assailants tearing up their home. “Can they teleport, like you? Or…become invisible?”

Stefan just threw up his hands, frustrated. The abrupt gesture made Adam stiffen again, and I leaned into his shoulder. _Stefan’s one of the good guys. Our friend_. Through our bond, I sensed his unsettled wolf was starting to see Stefan as a chew toy.

Stefan must’ve sensed it, too. He turned his head, looking away. Presenting a less threatening sight.

“I don’t know, Mercy. Marsilia’s people were too rattled to give clear answers.” He rubbed his bloody hands to his cheeks, tiredly. “Vampires are tied to their Masters. Her pain hurt them, turned them frantic. Some ran a little…unhinged—it’s fine,” he hurried to add, to Adam’s threatening growl. “Wulfe can manage them a few hours, until Marsilia’s recovered. But they won’t tell us anything useful, until then.”

His gaze turned back to me. 

“Whoever did this is powerful. To manage this attack inside a well-established seethe led by a strong Master… It’s unheard of. You need to be on alert—I’m not sure the pack can handle them any better than the seethe could.”

“I still don’t get why they’d be interested in me,” I admitted. “Marsilia and I don’t exactly have much in common, to tempt the same enemy.”

“I don't know. I don’t even know what they were came to the seethe. Wulfe’s having Marsilia’s aides do an inventory, see if anything’s missing. But we won’t know for a while.” He sighed and gave me an anguished look. “I need to go back. Marsilia can’t protect the seethe, tonight. I don’t know the attackers won’t come back…”

He sounded almost apologetic. I suppose I’d made my feelings clear on his weird lingering soft spot for Marsilia one time too many. She didn’t deserve his concern.

Except I couldn’t exactly complain that the loyalty that made him such a good friend also worked for other people. And he’d known some of her seethe for decades—of course he cared what happened to them.

“I’ll send two wolves to watch the seethe,” said Adam, sparing me from finding an appropriate reply.

“Wolves won’t be welcome near it right now.”

“They’ll keep their distance. If there’s another attack, I want them nearby. We need to work together,” Adam said firmly. “My wolves can sense an attacker that a vampire might not. If this unknown enemy is after Mercy, I want all the information I can get. That means keeping an eye on the seethe.” He paused. “If they see something approach, they’ll provide early warning. Marsilia can consider it extra security.”

At last, Stefan nodded. “Yes. Yes—alright. Marsilia would approve of this, too.”

“I’d like her to contact me as soon as she’s able,” said Adam, in his Alpha voice. “I want to learn what she knows of the people targeting my wife.”

“I’ll call when I know more.” Stefan sighed, then turned me. “I must go back, Mercy.”

I generously refrained from pointing out that Marsilia wouldn’t be rushing to help him, if the roles were reversed.

“Thanks for coming to warn us,” I said instead. “You’ll call if there’s anything we can do to help?”

“There’s nothing. Just stay safe. I’ll…be around.” He looked to Adam. “Keep her safe.” And as Adam nodded, he vanished.

I stared at the chair he’d broken. The edges still bore bloody handprints.

When I looked at Adam, the corners of his eyes were tense.

“Maybe we should take a vacation to Egypt, too,” I suggested. “Fae babies and monster nannies sound like a nice break.”

* * *

We had a brief pack meeting. It amounted, embarrassingly, to ‘someone scary might be targeting Mercy, but we don’t know who, why, how, or when’—which earned me a lot of crooked looks.

I tried to point out I could look after myself and didn’t require a house full of wolves on high alert. They overruled me unanimously, and Adam set up watches indoors and in the yard.

Since Jesse and Aiden also lived here, I didn’t really mind the extra security. If the seethe’s attacker did show up, I wanted a dozen wolves between them and the kids.

Because the unknown attacker had somehow trapped Marsilia behind a locked door, I was sentenced to sleep in the common room with Daryl and Auriele, Honey, and Joel. With that company, I was confident no attack would bother me, so around midnight I declared lights-out and snuggled against Adam on the sofa.

I could feel his tension through our mate bond. I turned my head, kissing his chest. “This house is the safest place in the zip code, right now. Ten SWAT teams couldn’t breach it.”

Daryl grunted agreement, across the room.

“It would be helpful if we knew more about what the danger is,” said Auriele. Her tone was neutral, but I sensed the jab behind it.

“Sorry: the list of people I’ve managed to tick off is too long to narrow down,” I replied, in my best repentant tone. Honey snorted.

Auriele huffed, but I could feel Adam’s smile. His arms enveloped me, and, using his bicep as a pillow, I drifted to sleep.

In my dream, I stood on the edge of a giant golden crater, filled with clear water.

Things began to climb out of the water. Odd things: big fiery creatures, tornadoes, living storm clouds, laughing rivers. Others followed: humans and fae of all sorts, shaped like people or animals or trees. After them came werewolves and vampires. The more creatures came out, the lower water levels dipped, until the crater was empty.

I noticed the walking stick sitting on the golden edge.

I picked it up, and a deep voice whispered to me.

“ _When I am, I can be anything_.”

A person walked past me, to the edge of the crater. They stared into the drained depths—then jumped in, headfirst.

“No!” I shouted, but my voice didn’t work.

More silhouettes appeared, human and fae and wolf and vampire, and they all jumped to their death, heedless of my silent, horrified screams. The water levels rose again, slowly, until the crater was full to the brim once more. There was no one left alive to jump in.

I stretched a hand over the water. The water began to shiver. Beneath my fingers, a shape began to rise up—amorphous and undefined, twisting and molding to my will.

An overwhelming sense of wrongness turned my stomach, and I scrambled back from the edge, away from the crater.

When I woke, my neck ached from sleeping on it wrong. Maybe werewolves could handle twisting themselves into pretzels on sofas; but those of us without super-healing required proper mattresses.

The memory of the dream lingered, hazy and disturbing. I made a note to mention it to Zee. Maybe I’d preface it with cookies. I had a feeling he wouldn’t be happy to hear about it.

The house was quiet. Since none of the wolves on watch, here or at the seethe, reported any issues, after some negotiation, Adam and I agreed to avoid house arrest. He’d go to his scheduled drill with the local law enforcement and try to learn if any odd attacks had happened in the area. I’d go to work, taking Warren, Ben, and Zack with me.

I didn’t love that, but marriage was all about compromise.

So I went to the garage with my honor guard of overprotective wolves. They spread out around the office, covering doors and windows, while I filled in Zee on the seethe’s attack.

He also didn’t know who could be responsible.

“Someone powerful,” he said. “Most fae I know wouldn’t go up against a vampire Master. Fewer still against the Mistress of the Tri-Cities.”

“Could one of the Gray Lords be behind this? Is this related to the unrest in Underhill?”

Zee held out his hands. “I do not live in Underhill, Liebchen. I will see what rumors I can learn—but I have not heard of anyone wishing to attack the vampires. And anyone wishing to attack you would not tell me about it.”

He thought for a while longer, while I checked the morning’s deliveries.

“To enter and leave unseen, that takes skill. Not many have such abilities.”

“More than you’d think,” I sighed. Adam and I had made this list last night. “There’s fae glamor. Witches can hide themselves. Some goblins can keep a low-profile that’s near to being unseen. I’ve even seen a vampire do something like that.”

“Question is,” said Ben, “who’d like to kill you and the fudging bloodsucker queen _both_?”

He used words that were not ‘fudging’ or ‘queen’. Zee gave him a look. Zee did not like that language in his shop.

“That’s a long list, too,” I said, and I counted on my fingers. “Friends of Frost’s. Anyone who has a problem with our territory. Enemies from our trip to Italy…Maybe one of the vampires Marsilia brought back from Bonarata?”

I was pretty sure she’d vetted the few she’d taken into her seethe. But who knew what her vetting entailed? She had a number of unsavory characters in her ranks. And Wulfe.

“Or someone totally unrelated,” I finished. “Marsilia’s had centuries to make enemies. I had less, but I’ve been more diligent about it. Maybe at some point, we ticked off the same guy.”

“Too many options is as good as none,” said Zack, philosophically.

“Maybe the vampire queen’s lying about them targeting you,” said Ben. “To get you to hunt her enemies for her.”

"Wouldn’t be the first time,” I agreed. “But Adam doesn’t think so. And Stefan seemed to believe her. He wouldn’t lie.”

“She’d lie to him,” Ben pointed out. No arguments there.

“Adam will call her tonight, and we can ask more questions.” I closed the catalog and picked up my work gloves. “Going to work on Mrs. Candiano’s Opel,” I told Zee. “She’ll need it back as soon as possible.”

Zee nodded and stayed in the office, while I went into the back. The wolves filed in after me. Warren changed and settled in a corner, out of the way. Zack picked up Mrs. Candiano’s fairytale book from the Opel’s backseat and began flipping through it, while Ben entertained himself folding the bird-patterned bookmark into shapes that vaguely looked like sexual organs.

Business as usual.

After a couple of hours, the engine still wouldn’t turn on, so I went to check our catalogs for spare parts. The wolves followed, which meant I couldn’t talk to Zee about Ariana’s suggestion for the walking stick, or about my disturbing dream.

Mrs. Candiano called back, confirming she had indeed misplaced her reading glasses, though she didn’t recall putting them in the car. She didn’t recall an Italian storybook, either, but gladly accepted my offer to drop it off, with the glasses, at her library.

My honor guard disapproved of the plan.

“If the shagging vampire-killers attack the library, there’ll be a lot of collateral.” Ben scowled. “Why can’t the old bint pick up her stuff when she gets the car?”

“Because she’s a seventy-year-old librarian who needs her reading glasses,” I said. “And she can’t get here easily without her car.”

“Adam would disapprove,” said Zach, mildly, and Warren nudged my hip, huffing the wolf equivalent of agreement.

My turn to overrule them.

“It’s a twenty-minute detour. We’ll survive it.” I grabbed the tupperware with the glasses and placed a quick order for parts, then, once the wolves had filed into Warren’s truck, I ran back in to grab the cell phone I’d intentionally left in the back area.

Lowering my voice to a whisper, I told Zee: “Ariana suggested a thus-made-thus-bound trick—a sheath made from the materials used to make the walking stick might keep it contained.”

“Hm,” said Zee. “Vielleicht.” Maybe. Maybe was better than nothing.

“I need Lugh’s logbook to figure out the materials,” I said. “Any idea where to get that?”

“I’ll look into it,” said Zee. “In the meantime, have as little to do with the object as you can. And no more talking to it.”

I opened my mouth to tell him about the dream, but Ben appeared in the doorway. Apparently forty seconds was all the time I was allowed unguarded.

Mrs. Candiano met us at the front desk, with a pair of glasses atop her purple-streaked white hair, and another pair hanging from a cord around her neck. When I presented her with the Tupperware, she glanced inside and gave me a baffled look.

“These aren’t mine, dear.” She picked up the glasses, passing a gentle finger over the delicately-carved temples. “They look expensive. I buy my reading glasses at the grocery store. Perhaps you found them in another car?”

I hadn’t. But perhaps Zee or Tad had shifted things around, and something had gotten mixed up?

Mrs. Candiano didn’t recognize the storybook, either, which made the mix-up even likelier. I apologized for wasting her time, and told her about the Opel parts I’d ordered and that she could expect her car back by next week.

“Can you get around, until then?”

“Sure, sure.” She smiled, tan leathery skin wrinkling around her eyes. “And your trip’s not wasted, dear: I saw your name in the directory this morning. The book you requested arrived.”

I didn’t recall requesting a book. A cautious, “Oh?” seemed like the best reply.

Mrs. Candiano pulled a small paper package from under her desk, with a large ‘I-L-L’ label on. Interlibrary loan. “Due back in a month,” she said, “but I’ll extend if you need it.”

I took the book: what else could I do? After thanking Mrs. Candiano and putting the Tupperware with the glasses back in my jacket, I returned to Warren’s car. Tearing the wrapping, I found a used volume of Chaucer retellings, with a fox and a rooster on the cover.

The day’s mysteries now totaled two books and a pair of designer glasses in a cookie box.

“Do you get the feeling someone’s playing a weird prank on me?” I asked Ben.

He shrugged and suggested burning everything, just to be sure. But TV crime dramas had taught me not to burn evidence.

I’d read Chaucer in college, but I couldn’t figure out how he related to either Italian fairy tales or the glasses. But this was a mystery for later. Putting the book in the glove compartment, I directed us to the nearest grocery, to buy about four thousand pounds worth of meat for the cookout.

Adam was waiting for me when I got home. His wry glance to the meat-filled trunk told me he wasn’t happy about my detour, but he let me distract him with a kiss. We made our way upstairs. I still wasn’t allowed to move sans security escort, but fortunately—after removing the bedroom door locks—we’d agreed he was enough security within the confines of our bedroom. 

“No suspicious attacks in the area the last two weeks,” Adam said. “I’ve asked Tony to check with police departments and sheriff’s offices in the rest of the state. Just in case. Daryl and Auriele checked Stefan and Wulfe’s homes, too. Couldn’t find anything suspicious or any foreign scents.”

“So the attackers wanted Marsilia, specifically. Or something inside the seethe.” I sighed as Adam closed the bedroom door behind us and did a quick survey of the room. “Don’t suppose we can hope she injured them badly enough to scare them off.”

“If she didn’t kill them, they’ll be back sooner or later,” said Adam. “Unless I find them, first.” His tone was deceptively neutral, but I heard the threat behind it. “I had the firm pull last night’s footage from the area near the seethe. See if we catch a glimpse.”

Seeing how Marsilia’s home was pretty well-insulated, I doubted there were many cameras in the area. Still, any information couldn’t hurt.

I ducked into our bathroom and turned on the shower.

“I thought Stefan would call, by now. Think Marsilia’s waiting for us to call and beg her for information?” That sounded precisely like her sort of petty mind game.

“If it was our home that was attacked I’d focus on taking care of our people first,” said Adam. “And figuring out a defense strategy in case the attackers return. Sharing information would be lower on the list—even to our allies.”

Well, that was a surprising defense of the seethe’s mistress. I gave him an incredulous look, as I peeled off my jeans. Adam snorted and shrugged.

“I wanted to rip off heads after Gerry Wallace’s people attacked my house,” he admitted. “Or after the Cantrip fiasco. Making phone calls was the last thing I cared about.”

His face shadowed as he remembered those attacks. I tossed my jeans in the hamper and stepped into his arms, letting the warmth of our touching bodies wash away bad memories.

Adam kissed the top of my head. “I’ll call the seethe later tonight, if we don’t hear from Stefan.”

Good enough for me.

I wanted him to join me in the shower, but he needed to go over tonight’s plan with the wolves downstairs. Since this party celebrated Mary Jo and George’s recent promotions, we’d invited some of their human friends, including Renny and George’s Pasco PD partner. Then there was Kyle’s sister, and the human families of our pack. Given the risk of attack, Adam wanted to make sure everyone was clear on strategies for how to protect the humans.

I suspected drills were involved, so I prolonged my shower. A cowardly move—but I preferred to avoid the resentful looks from everyone who had to suffer through Adam’s security drills on my account.

When I emerged at last, the walking stick leaned against the bathroom door. I opened my mouth to tell it its wandering days were nearing an end—then I remembered Zee’s advice to quit talking to it.

Right. Don’t encourage the misbehaving fae magical object.

I changed into clean jeans and an off-shoulder cotton blouse and went downstairs. Aiden waited in the basement doorway, sulking gaze moving from me to the back door.

“Do I have to go to this stupid party?” he whined.

“Only if you want good food and nice music and to acknowledge our friends’ successes.”

His sour face told me he wanted mostly to sulk in his room. Alright, then.

“Who don’t you want to see?” I asked.

Aiden tapped a nervous foot to the floor. “Some of George’s police friends have kids in my class.” He looked up when I said nothing. “I’m not scared of them! But if I burn them, you and Adam will be mad.”

“You’re not wrong, there.” We’d had the no-using-magic-on-the-other-sixth-graders talk, but I had a feeling we’d need to have it again. “I don’t think George’s friends are bringing their kids. But I’d love to hear why you’re considering flambéing your classmates, if you feel like sharing.”

Aiden gave me a glum look and stayed silent.

It occurred to me we hadn’t asked him if he wanted to invite anyone to the cookout. Jesse already knew she could invite her friends to any pack events that included humans. But Aiden didn’t use to know anyone outside us and Zee, until recently; so I hadn’t thought to mention the same to him.

“If there’s anyone in your class you want here, I can call their house and ask,” I offered, with a glance to the clock. Six p.m.: a bit on the late side for dinner invitations, but we didn’t stand on ceremony, around here.

“No.” Aiden sighed. “They’re all weird. And they think I’m…strange.”

“You _are_ strange,” said Jesse, who’d trotted down the stairs behind me. “We’re all strange around here. That’s what makes it fun.”

She gave me a look that said ‘I got this’. Grabbing Aiden’s arm, she tugged gently to unstick him from his scowling, cross-armed pretzel pose.

“Come on. You can help me make a salad, and I’ll tell you about the time my classmates beat me up and Mercy made Ben threaten to eat them. I’m sure she’ll extend the offer to you, if you want it. Why burn anyone, when you can outsource the carnage to a pissed off werewolf?”

Yup, she had this.

I gave them a thumbs-up and went out the back door. Sherwood was guarding the door to Underhill again. Adam had put up a ‘Do not cross’ about ten yards away from it. The cookout would be happening on the other side of the tape, so it wouldn’t interfere with door-guarding duty.

“You took another shift?” I arched my eyebrows at Sherwood. “I’m starting to think you’ve got a lost lover wandering around in there, and you’re hoping she’ll come out.”

He grinned. “The wolf and I enjoy waiting for the hunt.” He must’ve noticed the words made me uneasy, because he winked and added: “But tonight, I mostly volunteered so I could get out of Adam’s security drills.”

That made me laugh.

“Clever. I guess if an attack would create the perfect opportunity for something to slip out unseen through that door.”

“It would,” said Sherwood. “Which is why there’s a ‘door guard duty’ role in Adam’s drills. It involves staying put here no matter what.”

I grimaced. No wolf would like that—staying out of the way staring at a closed door, while the pack fought an enemy.

“Yeah.” Sherwood read my face. “No one’s favorite plan. ‘course,” he added, as Adam’s firm voice reached us from across the yard, “no one’s stupid enough to argue with the boss.”

I couldn’t make out Adam’s exact orders, but I thought he was going through various exit strategies in case of different attack points.

Couldn’t blame Sherwood for wanting out: Adam’s military training made him a tough boss.

“Helps that his plans and drills saved the pack several times,” Sherwood added, grinning. “But I’m happy to be left out, all the same. Oh, look at that.” He cocked his head toward the road, his grin widening. “Someone’s early.”

I turned, craning my neck to see around the house, and spotted Kyle’s car pulling in.

Oh, God. If his sister walked in on Adam instructing everyone on ten ways to rip the throat off a surprise attacker, so much for our plan to charm her with our regular, boring lives.

I sprinted across the lawn to meet them, Sherwood’s laughter echoing in my ears.

I reached the car just as a tall, skinny woman exited the passenger side. Her hair was styled in elegant waves, with red highlights, and her ivory slacks and green silk blouse wouldn’t have looked out of place on a First Lady. She shared Kyle’s long nose and sharp gaze.

She smiled uncertainly as she spotted me, and I tried not to be too self-conscious about the fact that next to her elegance, I looked like a car-washer. 

“Hi—you must be Ally. I’m Mercy, Adam’s wife—that’s the pack’s Alpha.” I held out my hand and she took it, a little cautiously. Then, she put her other hand on top of mine, and squeezing, she gave me a concerned look.

“Do you need help? If you say so, we can get into this car and drive away—I know some people who can help you hide, and that man will never find you.”

Behind her, Kyle facepalmed and banged his forehead against the car roof.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, thanks everyone reading & leaving these lovely comments - tbh this fandom is so tiny I had no idea there were so many of you who'd read this! this has been a pleasant surprise.
> 
> oh yeah and i'm sorry for getting Kyle's sister's name wrong, oops. fixed it. i'm trying to stay consistent to the books in as many details as I can recall. but my brain is a very smol potato

CHAPTER 3

I didn’t manage to persuade Kyle’s sister that I wasn’t a submissive wife captive to the whims of the scary pack alpha. But at least I got her to come inside for a glass of iced tea.

We found Jesse and Aiden making a giant salad bowl in the kitchen, while discussing which of Aiden’s classmates Ben should maul. I assured Ally they were only joking, kids, right? ha, ha - and then I shooed them away before they could further damage my 'werewolves aren't scary' scheme.

“Sorry we’re running a little behind on the food," I told her, handing the iced tea. "But we’ll get the cookout going in a minute.”

As soon as my husband, the sex-hungry werewolf, led his assorted lethal pack members through the last of the military drills.

“You work as a mechanic, right?” asked Ally. “At that Volkswagen garage. I read about you. You know, I have friends in Seattle who run an engineering startup. They could use a technical assistant who’s good with her hands. It'd be safer work...and the pay would be better, too.”

I laughed. “My mother would hug you, if she could. Seeing me get that sort of job was her biggest dream for about a decade. But I like fixing cars.” I tried to change the subject. “What do you do? Kyle mentioned hedge fund managing…?”

She didn’t take the bait. “Kyle’s firm could also use an assistant, if you don’t want to move. You could fix cars as a hobby—and have a real paycheck, so you don’t have to be dependent on… you know.” Her voice lowered. “I heard the werewolves have…antiquated views on women. Does _he_ not allow you to work elsewhere?”

I sipped from my tea, trying to think of a good response. Because it _was_ true that most packs’ views on women were thoroughly lodged in the medieval times.

“Adam’s pack has a lot more modern attitudes. Mostly,” I amended. “Regardless what individuals’ views are, Adam's behavior sets the example, so they all respect women and our right to rule our own lives. Though some of the wolves do stick to old notions of chivalry.” I grinned. “But I’ve yet to see a woman offended by a nice gentleman opening doors or showing some protective instinct.”

"Protective instinct?" Ally gave me a doubtful look. "They're not really protecting you, are they? Or Kyle. Humans always get hurt around them—I've read all those articles. The things that happened to you because of them—”

“No. None of that is because of the pack. I get hurt some, yes," I admitted. "I choose to live in a city where fae and wolves and humans are figuring out how to co-exist, and sometimes that causes trouble. And I’m good at finding extra trouble. But the pack’s the reason I’m still alive. They look after their own.”

“Do they?” Ally rubbed her bare, freckled arms. “Kyle’s gotten hurt a lot, since meeting his… partner.”

“Mate,” I corrected gently. “Warren would never put Kyle in danger. None of the pack would. If someone threatened him, we’d defend him. It’s just like any good family: people show up for each other, and mates respect and protect each other.”

Or at least, how family’s supposed to be. Kyle’s was different. 

Ally shook her head. “He’s always been like this. Throwing himself into extreme, dangerous stuff to rebel against dad. High-altitude climbing in high school, car racing in college, writing inflammatory opinion pieces for newspapers, wearing clothes he knew would get a rise out of our parents. And after the gay thing…look, I don’t care that he likes men. Whatever.” She frowned. “But again, he’s looking for the most extreme way to do it.”

I stared. Did she just say dating a werewolf was gay version of an extreme sport?

“Only this time if he gets hurt,” she went on, “it’s not just a broken leg or a school suspension—it’s a deadly bullet or some…some monster ripping out his throat.” Her voice shook, and I sensed genuine concern behind her frustration. “You’re important to him,” she blurted. “Can’t you help him?”

“Help him with what, exactly?”

“See that this werewolf phase will get him hurt.”

“You do realize Mercy’s married to the werewolf alpha,” said Kyle, walking into the kitchen. “She’s pretty much the poster girl for _the werewolf phase_.”

Despite the sharp tone, his eyes looked tired. I gave him a sympathetic look.

Warren followed Kyle in—Adam must’ve wrapped up the drills. Ally stiffened at his presence, and the scent of her fear filled the air. I met Warren’s eyes, and he gave me a helpless, infinitesimal shrug. I wondered if he’d told Kyle that Ally was scared of him.

“Look,” I told Ally. “You and Kyle are adults, and I can’t tell either of you what to do or think. But he’s one of the smartest men I know. He’s made a great career and life with no help. And now he’s found one of the best men on Earth to settle down with.”

Ally gave Warren a wary look, which only riled me.

“My sister married an accountant,” I said. “I find his job boring, and I hate that he wants to name their future kids after vegetables. But she loves him, and I’ve seen how happy he makes her. So I trust her to choose what’s best for her own life, and I just…enjoy her happiness. Isn’t that family’s supposed to be about?”

Kyle gave me an odd look. Warren squeezed his arm, and I remembered this was supposed to be a ‘show Ally that werewolves are just regular folk’ effort, not a morality lecture.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry. I just…I’ve been lucky enough to have a lot of supportive friends and family, and I know what a difference that makes.”

Ally’s eyes darted back to Kyle and Warren. “Marrying an accountant doesn’t put your life in danger on a regular basis.”

“Neither does this,” said Kyle, coolly. “And if it did—”

“Being pack doesn’t put anyone in danger,” I interrupted, cutting off his rant. “It’s—like a family we weren’t born into. With a couple weird rules on the side, sure. But everyone has their own jobs, homes, hobbies, and we all get together to eat or play video games and gossip. Just like regular family. Except Kyle’s adopted in-laws grow fur and teeth and can scare anyone who wants to hurt him.”

Ally still looked doubtful. She glanced to Kyle, who made a helpless gesture, along the lines of ‘told you so’.

She sighed. “That’s not what I hear.”

“Newspapers exaggerate,” I swore. “And to be honest, most of the people who write those articles have no idea what they’re talking about.”

Ally bit her lips. I wasn't doing a great job on the persuasion front.

“You can see for yourself, tonight,” I suggested. “Meet the pack, see how it all works. I don’t know if Kyle told you what we’re celebrating.”

“Someone getting promoted at work.”

I nodded. “Two of our pack, Mary Jo and George. She’s a firefighter in Kennewick, he’s Pasco PD. And plenty of their human friends will be here, too, as well as the pack’s human families. No newspaper stuff, no danger—just a bunch of folks having a regular party.”

She didn’t seem confident. But she let Kyle and Warren take her out into the yard, which was a start. I’d heard a couple more cars pull up, and hoped Kelly or Elliot’s families might have arrived, too.

I heaved a big sigh and gulped down more iced tea. Family dramas weren’t my thing—and I hated that Kyle was getting hurt over this.

“Better hope no one attacks the house tonight,” said Ben from the kitchen doorway. “Or your whole spiel about ‘just a regular group of friends’ is gonna go up in flames real quick.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thank you, Captain Optimism.”

He smiled, but not whole-heartedly.

“Sucks that she’s like that,” he said.

I gave him a surprised look. Ben wasn’t exactly Mr. Empathy, usually.

He shrugged. “Having family treat you like shit is the same whether you’re human or wolf. Kyle’d be better off without her.”

“I don’t think he wants that.” I didn’t think their relationship was beyond repair, either. So long as Ally let herself see how happy he was. “People get…obtuse, when they’re scared. And most people are scared of werewolves. Hopefully tonight will help Ally see that Kyle’s not in danger from the pack.”

He leaned into the doorway. “Or maybe she needs to be more scared. That’ll teach her manners.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Just saying. Last I heard, I was the ‘maul humans into having better manners’ crew.”

Thanks, Jesse and Aiden. “I don’t care what the kids say,” I informed him. “Leave Ally alone. We’re trying to make her like us.”

I didn’t think Ben would deliberately make things harder on Kyle and Warren by scaring Ally—but one could never be one hundred percent sure, with him. Luckily, Adam walked in from the living room and gave Ben a long look to underscore my point. Then he took my hand to give it a long squeeze and pulled me into him.

“I’m grateful for you,” he said in a deep rumble.

“Good. ‘Cause you’re stuck with me: might as well enjoy it.”

Adam laughed into my hair. “Every second.”

We walked outside, where Zach and Warren were setting up Adam’s giant grill, while Daryl and Honey argued about the best way to season steak.

* * *

The celebration picked up around eight. Some forty people had arrived, and the mountains of grilled meat vanished almost as soon as they came off the grill. Werewolves rarely let food get cold. I learned cops and firefighters could give them a run for their money.

Ally still looked twitchy, so I sent Honey to talk to her. At the very least, they could bond over their shared love of haute couture.

The trick worked: after five minutes with Honey, the smell of Ally’s fear lessened. She even clapped for Warren when he played his guitar. Kyle looked happy.

We toasted Mary Jo and George. George’s partner told stories of George’s adventures on the force, and Mary Jo and Renny argued whether the FD or DA had ‘won’ a disaster-drill two years back. Jesse connected speakers and tried to teach us all the latest music hits, but eventually gave up in favor of 60s classics. Warren played his guitar some more.

Everyone had a good time. And to my relief, no one tried to kill us.

Around midnight, I sought refuge by the still-warm grill. The night breeze was giving me goosebumps. Adam brought me my jacket and held it out for me.

“Stefan called,” he whispered as I put on the jacket.

We retreated to the cordoned-off section by the door to Underhill, where Sherwood was eating his thirtieth piece of meat. Daryl, Warren, Honey, and Ben joined us, slipping away from the crowd. The rest of the guests were still gathered around Mary Jo and George’s duet of “We Are The Champions”.

“Marsilia says her attackers were fae,” said Adam. “One short and furred, the other looks like a large tree, with blades on its branches. She doesn’t know what they’re after or what they want with Mercy.”

“Sorry—did you say a short furry fae, and a giant tree?”

“Mercy,” rumbled Warren, amused. Adam looked between us, then to the snorting Ben.

“Never mind,” I said. “It’s a movie thing.” Jesse and I sometimes got Adam to watch Hollywood, but he couldn’t make it ten minutes through a superhero flick without railing at the level of collateral damage. “Are we sure the attack didn’t damage Marsilia’s brain? Those fae are…implausible.”

“Stefan seemed certain. The damage on Marsilia was consistent with many sharp blades moving fast. She said the tree bled, so it can be hurt, but she doesn’t think she dealt it fatal damage.”

“We can do better,” said Honey, to general agreement.

“We’ll use ranged weapons, if they come here,” said Adam. “Stay away from the blades. Anyone who can shoot well takes care the tree. The others keep Mercy safe. And don’t let it get us into a small, closed space, where it’s harder to dodge hits.”

I was still stuck on the whole furry-rodent-and-big-tree duo. “Didn’t Stefan say no one saw the attackers? How did a house full of vampires miss a giant tree? What, did it camouflage in their garden?”

Ben gave me an approving grin, but Adam was all-business.

“Marsilia says they have strong glamor. Once the tree attacker her, she couldn’t see it at all.”

“…so it’s an _invisible_ talking tree.”

Adam growled softly and pulled me closer into him, inhaling my scent. His wolf was restless: it didn’t take kindly to my flippant attitude.

“Until we find out who the fae are and what they’re after, Mercy keeps her guards,” he said. “And I won’t risk an attack on anyone else in the pack, either. If you own a good gun, make sure it’s got iron or steel ammo, and keep it on you. If you don’t have one or you’re not confident in your shooting, stick to someone who is.”

Adam glanced over his shoulder at the partying crowd. I intervened before he could end the barbecue and start more drills, instead.

“The fae won’t attack when there are so many people around and out in the open,” I said. “The Gray Lords have rules against that. If anything, this party will probably keep trouble at bay until tomorrow.”

Adam gave me a knowing look, but ultimately assented. Like me, he knew the pack hadn’t had an event like this in a long time. Everyone needed the break.

Besides, most of the human families, including Ally—and Kyle, who drove her—had taken off before midnight. The only humans left were Renny, Tony, and two more Pasco PD officers. They could handle themselves in a fight.

On Adam’s signal, our little group dispersed, the wolves vanishing into the crowd again. I leaned into his embrace.

“I can’t believe Rocket and Groot attacked Marsilia.”

“We’ll find them,” said Adam, still not appreciating my hilarity.

“I know.”

The pack could handle two fae. The seethe might’ve been able to handle them, too, had they known what to expect. If Marsilia hadn’t been trapped in a small room with the supposed armed tree, I bet she’d have done more damage. Glamor or no glamor. 

“Did Marsilia tell Stefan why she met with the fae in the first place?” I asked.

“Seethe business,” grunted Adam. His tone made clear he didn’t like that answer. “She’s not obligated to reveal more; our treaty doesn’t cover private pack or seethe business.”

“And she won’t reveal a word more than required,” I muttered. "Typical. If she met the fae on business, why would they attack her?”

“Stefan said the smaller fae asked her to help kill you. When she refused, he summoned the bladed tree to attack her.”

I snorted. “Makes sense, except Marsilia would throw a ball if I got killed. If she and that fae had a fight, it wasn’t over her staunch defense of me.”

Adam rumbled and squeezed me to his chest. We both smelled like steak.

“It’s in her interest to preserve our alliance,” he said. “I trust that if someone showed up asking her to help kill you, she’d refuse. But I agree we’re not getting the full story. I’ll call her later tonight.” A smile seeped into his voice. “Once Stefan confirms she’s less— _incensed_.”

“Wow. If he’s using that word, she must be raging.” 

“Someone attacked her home. I’d be raging, too.”

“Don’t compare yourself,” I grumbled. “I doubt Marsilia’s raging because of her protective instincts. She’s just ticked someone showed her up and got away.”

“That, too.” Adam kissed my temple. “She’s a decent leader to the seethe. Better than plenty Alphas I’ve seen. She does protect her people.”

Yeah, right. “I've seen her idea of protection.”

“That’s between her and Stefan,” Adam said gently. “And I think they’re both aware of your feelings on the matter.”

I squinted. “Is this your subtle way of telling me to butt out of their business? Stefan's my friend. You can't think it's good for him to fall back into her entourage.”

"I think Stefan can make his own choices," murmured Adam; then, he grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “But if Marsilia upsets you, we’ll sic Ben on her. That’ll show her.”

I laughed. “Don’t tempt me.” I stepped back, rubbing my arms. “She just gets under my skin.”

“I know. She hurt someone you love, and you can’t let that pass. One of the many reasons I love you.” The smile returned to his voice. “I think Kyle’s sister learned that today, too. That was a very diplomatic dressing-down.”

I groaned. “I was supposed to make her like us.”

“At the very least, she’ll no longer think you’re the submissive wife,” he said, thoughtfully, and I punched him in the arm.

It took another couple of hours before the party broke up. I’d been longing to go to bed way before that. I consoled myself with the notion that most of the guests had werewolf super-stamina, so my serial yawning couldn’t be held against me.

We all slept in the common area again. Daryl and Aurielle stayed over, and so did Ben and Sherwood—who relinquished the door duty to Honey, for the night shift. Joel joined Zach and Elliot in patrolling the property.

I hoped we’d catch the two fae soon. I didn’t love this pretorian guard arrangement.

It felt like I’d just drifted off to sleep, when Adam jumped up. His tension flooded me through our bond, and I went from asleep to wide awake in half an eyeblink.

“Backyard,” he snapped at the others. “Go. Daryl, stay with Mercy. You know the strategy.” He pulled from a box by the sofa a small rifle and spare ammo. “Mercy, your gun.”

I hesitated briefly, then decided the Sig was better against fae than my Marlin. I grabbed it from the box and slipped into tennis shoes, swiping my jacket on the way out the back door. As we ran into the yard, Zach and Joel began howling out front.

I couldn’t see them. They sounded enraged and alarmed, but not hurt. Not yet.

I moved to go help, but Daryl barred my way.

“No. Adam’s orders are to get you away.” He gave me a hard look as I protested. “You’ll just distract him if you rush in unprotected.”

By the door to Underhill, Honey’s wolf gave a nervous whine. She didn’t like being stuck here, while our pack mates were in trouble.

Daryl gave her a hard look, too, and she subsided. She knew the rule: don’t leave the door unguarded, no matter what.

Aurielle and Sherwood began to change. Daryl and Ben checked their guns. Judging from the noises on the other side of the house, Zach, Elliot, and Joel had engaged the enemy—but those weren’t the noises of a successful hunt.

Suddenly, Adam’s rage and confusion flooded me through our bond.

"They're hurting him!" I lunged for the front of the house, but Daryl pulled me back. “Let me go! They’re hurting Adam.”

“Stay away,” yelled Adam, from the front lawn. His voice was strained, unnatural. “The fae have a glamor that can blind and deafen us.”

More pain flooded the pack bonds. _Zach_. The wolves near me growled: Zach was our submissive, and everyone’s instinct was to protect him.

Adam drew on the pack bonds to make a fast change, and I fought Daryl’s firm hold.

“We need to help,” I said. “They can’t fight if the fae glamor blinded them.”

Daryl gritted his teeth. “We run. Adam’s orders.”

He hated those orders as much as I did. But he wouldn’t disobey. When I resisted running, he hoisted me up, ignoring my snarl. With one last look to Aurielle’s wolf, who’d taken a defensive position, he took off toward the road.

I screamed at him, but Adam’s orders outranked mine.

We’d nearly reached the property line, when a giant tree rounded the corner of the house.

Marsilia hadn’t made up her description. This was a fae—and it looked like a stocky oak.

Its shape was just wrong enough to know it wasn’t a real tree. The short, thick trunk—perhaps four feet in diameter, six in height—forked into a dozen hefty stems, more than I’d seen on any real tree. The stems, muscular and nearly limb-like, reached up another few feet, nearly doubling its height. Each of them then split further into several thin, longer branches, that all moved independently. The sight was less Groot and more paintings of the Medusa The branches wove and twisted about like snakes.

And each one ended in a foot-long stone blade or a wooden spike.

This was a creature made to kill. I no longer wondered how Marsilia took so much damage, if she fought it. Stuck in a small room with this thing, it was shocking it hadn't filleted her into vampire sushi.

I couldn’t see the smaller, rodent-like fae. It was likely hiding in the tree’s moving branches.

The tree stomped toward us on its short, thick roots, much faster than I’d expected from that way of locomotion. Adam’s wolf rounded the house after it. I cried out as he threw himself as the moving trunk, sinking in his fangs. One of the blades swung into him and sent him flying backwards.

“No!”

Adam regained his feet immediately. But he looked dazed. He shook his head, whining softly, and he looked left to right, ears pricking. His unease and confusion pulsed through our bond.

He couldn’t see or hear the tree, I realized.

“Daryl, stop! We need to help. He’s fighting blind.”

But Daryl tightened his fireman’s hold on me and kept running. Behind us, Ben fired his gun twice—then he swore worse than I’d ever heard him. Aurielle let out a long, fearful howl. Daryl stumble and paused, turning toward the house—

And everything turned dark and silent, like someone had thrown a thick, leaden blanket right on top of me.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to post more than one chapter at once if I manage to edit sufficiently quickly :).


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